


a hot meal and someone to listen

by taxicab12



Series: we change together [2]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Domesticity, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24783994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taxicab12/pseuds/taxicab12
Summary: They don’t adopt.Adopting takes paperwork, appearances in court, and other things they absolutely cannot do under their own names. Besides, all it would be was a piece of paper with two of their names on it, because no court, even if they used their aliases, would allow all three of them to be listed as parents.So they don’t adopt.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Series: we change together [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792609
Comments: 16
Kudos: 222





	a hot meal and someone to listen

They don’t adopt.

Adopting takes paperwork, appearances in court, and other things they absolutely cannot do under their own names. Besides, all it would be was a piece of paper with two of their names on it, because no court, even if they used their aliases, would allow all three of them to be listed as parents.

So they don’t adopt.

Honestly, they don’t really mean for kids to happen at all, why would they? They’re the perfect team, the perfect family, just as they are.

It’s Hardison’s fault, really.

Parker could never have her pocket picked, if someone tried, she would have her wallet back in the blink of an eye and have her robber’s watch, and phone, _and_ wallet.

Eliot wasn’t the sort of person anyone smart would try to steal from, but if they did, they would probably regret it. Or maybe not, Eliot had softened a little with age.

Either way, Hardison was the easiest target of the trio, the one who paid the least attention to passerby as he walked down a Portland street, his eyes glued to his phone. When a teenager brushed against him on the sidewalk, he almost didn’t notice the lift, certainly wouldn’t have if not for so many years of being around Parker.

“Hey kid,” he said, as the boy began to walk a little faster. “I got no cash and I’m one punch away from a free sandwich, so I’d really like that back.”

The boy looked about to run when he glanced into the road, seeing a police car turn onto the street.

“I won’t tell the cops,” Hardison said, quickly. “You look hungry. I own a brewpub and my boyfriend makes a mean grilled cheese.”

His name was Owen. He was sixteen.

Aside from that, Hardison learned very little on the short walk back.

Eliot didn’t even ask, just started cooking.

“So,” Eliot asked as he wiped down the bar, one of the last steps of closing the restaurant for the night, “what’s your story, kid?”

He clammed up, and both Eliot and Hardison knew that it was better not to push. But after a moment, and a long sip of water, he said “Not much to tell.”

“You living on the street?” Eliot asked.

“I guess.”

“How long?”

“Three months.”

“When’s the last time you had a good meal?”

Eliot took his very brief hesitation as answer enough and stomped back in the kitchen.

“Babe, what are you doing?” Hardison asked.

“Making dessert,” Eliot said.

“Thanks,” Owen said, quietly to Hardison. “Sorry I stole your wallet.”

“Nah, man, it’s all good. I should have Parker show you how to perfect that lift. You did pretty good though.”

“Who’s Parker?”

“She’s our girlfriend. She’s real good at that stuff.”

Girlfriend, he said, because that was the truth, but it was a truth that sat kind of weird. However, marriage was another one of those things that three people weren’t allowed to do. It was really nothing but paperwork, but sometimes Hardison still dreamed of it.

He’d never mentioned it, but he was sure it must have crossed Eliot’s mind too. Eliot who had been engaged once, Eliot who had more of a typical nuclear family upbringing than the others, Eliot who was way more of a romantic than he would ever admit.

Parker wouldn’t get it. He wasn’t sure she’d be against it, but he was pretty sure she wouldn’t get it.

“You got somewhere safe to go tonight?” Eliot asked from the kitchen.

“I can figure it out.”

“It’s already dark.” Eliot’s voice was soft. “You can have my bed tonight.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t. I—“

“I don’t use my bedroom anyway,” Eliot set a tray of cookies on the bar. “The door’s got a lock.”

They had agreed at the beginning, before they knew what this was, that it was possible they all might need their own space. Well, Eliot and Parker might need their own space, Hardison was perfectly happy with a bedroom that usually had his partners in it. But their apartment had a second bedroom, in case Eliot wanted to spend a night alone, and Parker had kept her warehouse, though she gave them the real address this time.

And while any one of the three of them could easily open the flimsy lock on Eliot’s bedroom door, it seemed to be the right thing to say, because the boy nodded slowly.

Parker was hanging from the beam that ran across their living room when they got home, smiling as they entered. Eliot had called her on the walk home, so she just dropped to the floor unfazed.

“Hey, babe,” Hardison said, greeting her with a kiss. “How was Amy’s show?”

Amy had left the brewpub after receiving a full ride to art school years ago (which, she had immediately accused Hardison of setting up, but as it had been Parker’s idea, he technically wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t done it), but she still came around often. She and Parker had regular movie nights.

“Good!” She said. “And Hardison, I was in a museum and I didn’t even steal anything! Not even for a minute.”

“I’m so proud of you.” He said. “Owen, this is Parker. Parker, Owen.”

“I heard you robbed Hardison,” she said. “Wanna do it again?”

“Hey, _hey_ ,” Hardison said.

“You should get some sleep,” Eliot said, shooting a glare at Parker. He tapped on his door. “You can stay in here tonight.”

“Thanks,” Owen said. “And it’ll just be the one night, I promise.”

It was not.

At first, Hardison offered him a job at the brewpub, but when they moved from their apartment to a house (a little farther from the brewpub, but it had such high ceilings and, as much as Eliot hated to admit it, he was a domestic at heart and was so much happier than in the apartment), Owen came with them, decorating his bedroom walls with posters of bands that had been old when Hardison was a teenager.

He was their kid, one they scolded for throwing parties while they were away on jobs and had to ask three times to take out the trash.

And so three became four, and if four became five because Eliot met a young girl who had no one in the world and just needed a hot meal and someone to listen? Well, who could blame him?

So no, they don’t adopt. And they don’t get married either, not in the way they requires witnesses and signatures and forms.

But if Hardison steals some diamonds to propose with, kneeling in the kitchen of their brand new house?

Well, who could blame him?


End file.
